How Mistoffelees met his demise, Or did he?
by Felixfeles
Summary: For Blazenaire Alda's crossover contest. Behind every great man there is an excellent cat. MOVED TO CROSSOVER SECTION
1. Chapter 1

**PLEASE READ FIRST: This is set in an AU where Jellicles and humans walk the earth together. Though needless to say the cats own the humans, not vice versa as most humans like to think.**

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><p>Cast<p>

Mistoffelees, the clever and aloof magician we all love. And his human Sherlock Holmes the brilliant and aloof consulting detective.

Macavity, the Napoleon of crime and Misto's arch enemy. Along with his human Professor James Moriarty who is also a criminal mastermind.

Munkustrap, our favorite protector and storyteller. Accompaning his human Dr. John H Watson, who is Holmes's friend and chronicler

Bustopher's Jones, Misto's overweight brother and his human Mycroft Holmes. Both are exceptionally clever although rather lazy.

**I do not own SH or cats. Both creations belong to their respective creators Andrew Lloyed Webber and Arthur Conan Doyle.**

The Introduction (as told from Munkustrap's POV)

It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write the last words that shall ever be written about my friend Mistoffelees. In an incoherent and what I believe to be an entirely inadequate fashion, I have strived to give some account of a few of my strange experiences as the tuxedo's companion. It was my intention to have stopped these writings after the matter of "the Maine Coon's mane" and to have said nothing of the event which has left a deep void in my life. However my hand has been forced into action once more, due to the recent letters in which Colonel Moriarty defends his late brother's actions and strives to tarnish the blessed name of Sherlock Holmes and Mistoffelees. Names that I shall always do my uttermost to defend.

Sherlock Holmes, the name of the most brilliant tom in all of England, perhaps in all of Europe even, was an amazing detective and a great man to boot. But behind every great man there is an excellent cat and in the case of Holmes, his cat Mistoffelees was an exceptional tom. We met in the year of 1878, shortly after his and my human's (named Homes and Watson respectively) had been introduced through a mutual acquaintance. Within a few days the four of us, two humans and two Jellicles, began sharing rooms at 221b Baker Street.

Mistoffelees was a good flat mate. He was very quiet by nature and regular in his habits. The only objections I ever had was his use of my pollicle Gladstone as a test subject for his chemical experiments. I suspect that my dog's sudden growth of florescent pink fur was due to one of Misto's many suspicious compounds being slipped into his feeding bowl. But as Misto points out, Gladstone doesn't seem to mind.

When we began sharing rooms I was in a weakened state from the wounds I'd received at the hands of the enemy in the Afghan war (in which I participated in as feline officer) that at first I spent much of my time inside our rooms, particularly when it was wet. Fustraited with confinement and bored with lack of entertainment, the mystery surrounding Holmes and Mistoffelees's employment soon captured my interest.

Recalling a conversation we once had about cat-kinds limitations, he had said to me that everything he learned and collected in his abnormally large mind was of use to him. From this I summarized that if I learnt of where his skills lay I could figure out what he did for a living. I even took a pencil and paper and wrote a list that ran in this way.

MISTOFFELEES – his limits

Knowledge of literature. – knows _Peaks and Pollicles_ but not much else

Philosophy. – Nil

Knowledge of the Jellicle moon - Nil

Botany. – Variable. Well up in catnip, opium and poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical gardening

Hunting. – practical, but limited. Tells at a glance from mud stains what has been passing through. Is a skilled tracker. Knows nothing of practical mouseing.

Chemistry. – Profound. Has the rare ability to create lightning

Anatomy. – accurate, but unsystematic

Sensational Literature. –Immense. He appears to know every detail of every horror perpetuated in this century.

Sings well.

Is an expect singlestick player, boxer, dancer and magician

Has a good practical knowledge of Jellicle law

When I had sot so far in my list I threw it into the fire in despair. My feline curiosity was quenched however when Misto told me himself that he was a consulting detective and me to accompany him in one of his many investigations. Soon I was a regular companion on his adventures. I like to think that my presence was valued, not only for the rent and medical knowledge I provided, but because he enjoyed my presence. He had once said to me, right before my human had published _a Scandal in Bohemia_ "I feel lost without my Storyteller." A title which even now give me a great sense of pride and accomplishment.

But I'm straying from the subject of this story, the honest account of what really took place between Macavity and Mistoffelees, not forgetting their humans Moriarty and Sherlock respectively. I take up my pen anew to tell you now.

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><p><strong>So what do you think? I'll be updating this reularly as I've already typed up most of the chapters.<strong>

**Felixfeles**

**Please R and R if you feel so disposed**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everybodyyyyyyyyyy! here's the second part of this fic. I'll probably update the next chapter during the weekend, along with 'I am Mistoffelees'. I'll have lots of free time this week cause it's Queenie's birthday on Monday, which means a long weekend! I love being part of the commonwealth.**

**Crazy: sorry this one won't be slash. Mainly because Watson's married, and Holmes is asexual, and I want the cats to reflect their human's personalities**

**Delphicoracle-Cat: I know right! I mean T.S. Elliot _based_ Macavity on Moriarty. So they go hand in hand really.**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

**Munkustrap's POV**

You may remember that after my marriage and resulting departure of the room's that we had shared, the deep friendship which had existed between Misto and myself became to some extent modified. He still came to me from time to time when he desired a companion in his investigations, but these occasions grew more and more seldom, until the year 1890 when I retain memories of only three cases which we worked on. During the winter of that year I saw in the papers that he had been engaged by the royal family of Deuteronomy upon a matter of supreme importance and I received two notes from him which implied that this case would be a long one. So it was with some surprise therefore, that I saw him teleport into my human's consulting room upon the evening of the twenty fourth. And it struck me that he was looking even paler and thinner than usual.

"Yes, I has been using my magic rather too freely" he said, in answer to my look rather than to my words; "I have been a little busy of late. Will Watson mind if my human closes the shutters?"

Upon my reassurance Misto edged his way around the wall, closely followed by Holmes who not only closed the shutters, but bolted them as well.

"You are afraid of something?" I asked,. My human Watson meanwhile, was asking Holmes the exact same thing.

"Well I am"

"Of what?"

"Of hypnotism"

"My dear Misto, whatever do you mean?"

"I think you know me well enough, Munk, to know that by no means am I a nervous cat. But it is stupidity rather than curiosity that killed the cat."

I offered him some cream and he gratefully accepted the soothing dish. "I am sorry for calling so late" said he after a few licks of the cream "and I must further beg you to be so unconventional as to allow me to leave your house presently by climbing up the chimney whilst Holmes departs by scrambling over your back garden wall."

"But what's all this secrecy?" I asked. He held out his paw, and I saw in the light of the fire that his claws were torn and bleeding.

"It is not some light matter you see," he said, smiling. "On the contrary, it is solid enough for a tom to break his paw over. Is Demeter and Mrs. Watson in?"

"They are away on a visit."

"Indeed! Then you and Watson are alone?"

"Quite"

Then it makes it easier for me to propose that both of you should come with me and Holmes on a journey to mainland Europe."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you like."

There was something very suspicious about all of this, it wasn't like Misto or Holmes to take an aimless holiday. And judging from Misto's worn, paler that usual face, his nerves were stretched to their absolute limit. A feat which until now I had deemed to be impossible. Misto noticed the look of confusion on my face and proceeded to explain the situation.

"You have probably never heard of Macavity the mystery cat?" said he.

"Never"

"Aye there's the wonder of the thing!" he cried. "The tom pervades London, and no one has heard of him. That's what puts him on a pinnacle in the records of crime. I tell you, Munkustrap, if I could beat that magician, if I could free Jellicles and humans alike of him, then my career would have reached its summit. I cannot rest, Munkustrap, I cannot sit by the fireplace, if the thought that such a cat as Macavity and his human, Professor Moriarty are walking the streets of the Junkyard unchallenged."

"What have they done then?"

"Their career has been an unusual one. He was a tom of good birth and excellent education, gifted by nature with a phenomenal mathematical ability. At aged twenty one he wrote a paper on long division*. He had, to all appearances, a most brilliant career ahead of him. But the tom had hereditary tendencies of the most diabolical kind. A criminal strain ran in his blood that was intensified by his amazing mental powers.

As you are aware Munkustrap, there is no one who knows the higher criminal world of London as well as Holmes and I do. For many years I have had reason to believe that there is some deep immobile power that lies at the heart of London's crime organization. A power that stands in the way of justice and has shielded many a wrong-doer. For years I have been trying to penetrate this veil and I believe, at last, that I am succeeding. I am at last close enough to put handcuffs around the wrists of the ex Jellicle Macavity of mathematical celebrity.

He is the Napoleon of crime Munkustrap. He is the organizer of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city. He is a genius, a philosopher, an abstract thinker. He has a brain of the first order. He is only one tom, but his agents are many. I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone, and I might mention hundreds of other who work for that fiend. It is this tom, Munkustrap which I have devoted all my energies towards exposing. And I am forced to admit, he is an antagonist who is my equal on almost every field, be it magic, intellect, or deductive reasoning. My horror of his crimes was lost to admiration at his skill.

But even as we speak the net that I have so carefully woven is being drawn around him so closely that it shall soon be impossible for him to escape. I estimate that within three days Macavity, and the principal members of his gang, will be behind bars.

Macavity himself realized this not long ago, and this morning he did me the honor of coming to visit my place. My nerves are fairly strong Munkustrap, but I must confess a shiver ran down my spine when I laid eyes on the tom that I had been working so hard to trap. He is extremely tall and thin, his forehead is highly domed. His face protrudes forth and is forever swaying from side to side in a manner unlike that of a snake. His deep set eyes peered at me with great curiosity.

"You evidently don't know me" said he

"On the contrary, I think I do, will you pray take a seat professor." I answered.

"And all I have to say has already crossed your mind no doubt" said he.

"Then my answer has crossed your," I replied

"You stand fast?"

"Absolutely"

"If you choose to do so you will be placing yourself in the path of consequence and peril." He snarled.

"Danger is part of my trade" I remarked

"It is no danger" said he "it is inevitable destruction. You hope to place me in a dock. I tell you that I will never stand in a dock. You hope to beat me. I tell you that you will never beat me. If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do as much to you." He then rose from his seat and slinked out of the room. That was my one and only interview with Macavity. I left an unpleasant taste in my mouth. Especially since Macavity is not the type of cat to let the grass grow under his feat. I have already been ambushed several times already.

"He's assaulted you then?"

"Nothing so direct as that Munkustrap, they were all disguised to look like accidents. And I can say with all certainty that they will never be traced to the professor of mathematics who I daresay is engaged in working out problems on a blackboard not ten miles from here."

I have often admired my friend Mistoffelees's courage, but never more so than now.

"You will spend the night here?" I asked.

"No Munk, I cannot risk putting you and Watson in a dangerous situation. Matters are in such and advanced state that Scotland Yard can certainly make the arrests without my human's help for once. However Holmes's presence will be essential at the trails; so the best course of action will be for us to not show our faces in London for a few days. And I would be honored if you would come with us, Watson too naturally."

"We should be glad come." I smiled. Next to us Watson was shaking Holmes hand. Holmes had supposedly asked him the same thing. "Shall we leave tomorrow morning?"

"The sooner the better" agreed Misto. "Here are your instructions, and I beg you Munk, follow them to the letter, not doing so will put in in an enormous amount of danger. At exactly nine a cab driven by a fellow with a cat wearing a heavy black cloak tipped at the collar with red will arrive at your front door. Watson will hand the address to the cabman on a slip of paper with a request that he will not throw it away. As soon as the cab stops you will jump out and run to Victoria station in time for the Continental express."

"Where shall we meet you?"

"At the station. The second first class marriage will be reserved for us."

"We shall set off in the carriage then?"

"Yes"

Watson was unsuccessful in persuading Holmes to remain for the evening. It was clear that Holmes and Misto believed that they would bring trouble to the roof they were under. So with a few hurried words as to our plans for tomorrow they rose. Watson went out with Holmes into the garden whilst I watched Misto disappear up the chimney. Holmes then whistled for a cab, in which they drove away.

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><p><strong>*I know long devision is not <em>that<em> hard. But hey, they're cats. And they didn't have calulators in the nineteenth century so long devision would have been quite difficult.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! Here's chapter three of "how Mistoffelees met his demiese." With any luck I'll have "I' am Mistoffelees" updated by this evening. Wish me luck. **

I woke up early next morning to make sure the house was secure before we left. Not secure as in the human way by locking doors and bolting windows, but _feline_ secure. I made sure that the roof was clear of any weeds so any potential intruder would have difficulty gripping onto the tiles. I checked the walls for cracks and the floor for loose boards. And finally I dragged a sack of flour out of the kitchen and shoved it up the chimney blocking that route into the house. Hopefully Demeter wouldn't notice anything until I got back.

By the time I had accomplished this task and cleaned the floor of stray flour that had escaped the bag, Watson had woken up and was dressing for the day. He then secured the house in his quaint human like way using the house keys. Then hailed a cab. Just before leaving the house he left a note in the mantelpiece for his wife Mary.

_Dear Mary_

_I'm going with Holmes to the continent to help him with one of his confounded cases. I'm sorry for running off like this but I'll be back in a few days and in the meantime I'll be thinking of you every moment. With any luck I'll be returning in a few days. _

_Love you always_

_John_

I left a similar note for my mate Demeter, but instead of scribbling on a piece of paper, I simply rubbed my head against the couch in the sitting room, leaving a scent mark. After all, I am a cat.

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><p>We obeyed Misto's instructions to the letter. At nine am exactly the cab arrived with the driver's cat, a tom of large proportions, wearing the exact attire that Mistoffelees had described. The instant John and I had stepped in, the driver whipped up the horse and rattled off to Victoria Station at an immense pace. Upon out arrival there he turned the carriage round and dashed off without so much as a look in our direction.<p>

We had no difficult in locating the compartment Mistoffelees had mentioned for it was the only one which was marked 'ENGAGED.' However I was still anxious as to my friend's whereabouts. We had less than five minutes to go until the train started. I tried searching for him among the assortment of passengers but got caught up helping an old Siamese who was trying to make the station master's cat Skimbleshanks understand with broken English that his salmon paste was to be booked through to Paris. Then after taking another quick look round I returned to my seat. To my great annoyance the old Siamese was sitting there, the railway cat had obviously placed him there so he would not be a bother. It would have been extremely difficult to explain to him that his presence was an intrusion so I shrugged my tail and turned my mind to Mistoffelees's presence, or rather, lack thereof. The doors were already shut and the whistle had blown so if-

"Munkustrap" said a voice "you have not even said hello to me in the whole five minutes I've been sitting here."

To my great astonishment. The old Siamese was no other than the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees himself. Grinning at my confusion.

"Everlasting Cat!" I cried "you made me jump!"

"Every piece of secrecy is essential" he replied "and even with the precautions we did take, we cut it rather fine."

Looking behind me as the train moved off I saw a sturdy calico barging through the crowd, shouting in a thick cockney accent for the train to stop. But it was too late. The train was speeding up and we were now on our way to Europe.

"Did you find the cab-cat alright Munk"

"Yes, he was waiting with the driver"

"Did you recognize him?"

"No"

"It was my brother Bustopher Jones, he took the precaution of removing his signature white spats before driving out to collect you with Mycroft."

"I did not recognize them at all Misto."

"That was the intention Munkustrap." Said Misto. He spoke with a such rediculously poor Siamese accent, that I was compelled to swat him around the ears.

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><p>In due time we got off the train at Canterbury. Rather than taking the ferry down to Normandy, Mistoffelees teleported us Brussels. There we stayed for a few days so that Misto's powers could revover, and to wait for our humans to rejoin us for they had taken yet another route after getting off the train. My human, Watson, having thought that I had been left on the train and worried for my safety greeted me ardently. Holmes on the other hand did not seem particularly surprised to see us in Brussels and greeted Mistoffelees as casually as if he had only been out for a few minutes. Surprisingly Mistoffelees did not mind this. I suppose that he and his human have always been a little strange.<p>

The next morning Holmes had telegraphed the London police and in the evening we found a reply waiting for us at our hotel. Holmes tore it open, and then with a bitter curse threw it at the floor. Mistoffelees then read it and with a low hiss set it on fire with a spark from his paws.

"I might have known it!" he groaned. "They have escaped!"

"Macavity and Moriarty?"

"They have secured the whole gang with the exception of those two. They have given them the slip. Of course, when my human and I had left the junkyard there was no one to cope with them. but I did think that I had put the game in their hands. I think that you and Watson had better return to England, Munkustrap."

"Why?"

"Because you will find us dangerous companions now. This cat's life occupation is gone. He is lost if he returned to London. He and his human will now devote their entire energies to revenge themselves by finishing off me and Holmes permanently. He had said as much before and I am inclined to believe him. I strongly advise you to return to you mate and your protector duties."

This persuasion was hardly going to work with a tom who was an old campaigner as well as an old friend. We sat in a café arguing the question for half an hour, but by the same night we had resumed our journey and we were on our way to Geneva.

**R & R if you feel so diposed.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Second last chapter! Yes everyone I have one more chapter left which will be published ASAP! So look out for it!**

The following week was delightful for both Misto and I, and our humans alike. We wondered up the valley of the Rhone, and then, branching off at Leuk, we made our way over the Gemmi Pass, still damp with snow, and so, by way of Interlaken, to Meiringen. It was a lovely trip. Especially since it was the time of year when the valleys are blooming into spring, whilst the mountains are still white with winter's snow. But even so, it was clear to me that Misto did not let his guard down for a second. Not once did he forget the shadow which lay across him. I could tell by his quick glancing eyes and his sharp scrutiny of every cat and human we met, that he still believed, that wherever we may walk or hunt, we would always be in danger.

I remember one time, as we went through the Gemmi Pass, a large rock which had been dislodged from the ridge on out right clattered down straight towards us. If it had not been for Misto's and my acute cat reflexes then we would have been flattened. In an instant Misto had raced up to the top of the ridge, and screened the landscape for any sudden movement, but none was to be seen. Our guide had laughed it off and said that falling rocks were common at this time of year. Misto however, remained unconvinced, but merely smiled as if he had expected something like this.

But now I come to the point where I must tell you about Homes and Misto's demise. I shall be brief, but true to the details of what happened that day.

It was on the third of May that we reached the little village of Meiringen, where Holmes and Watson shared rooms at the _Englisher Hof_, and Misto and I lodged in the stable as the landlord was allergic to cats. He spoke good English and at his advice, on the fourth, the four of us set off together, with the intention of crossing the hills and spending the night at the hamlet of Rosenlaui. We were strictly warned, however, on no account to pass the falls of Reichenbach, which are about half-way up the hill, without making a small detour to see them.

It is indeed, a fearful place. The torrent, swollen by the melting snow, plunges into a tremendous and rocky chasm, from which the spray rolls up like liquid smoke creating a hazy fog that made it impossible the bottom. The shaft into which the river hurls itself is an immense chasm, lined by glistening coal-black, basalt rock, and narrowing into a creaming, boiling pit of incalculable depth, which brims over and shoots the stream onward over its jagged lip. The long sweep of blue water forever rushing down, and the thick flickering curtain of spray hissing forever upward, made a tom dizzy with its constant whirl and spray. We stood at the lip of this very abyss, peering down at the gleam of the black rocks as the icy water spilled over them, and listening to the roar which came booming up with the spray out of the gulf. Turning round to resume our journey we saw a young Swiss lad accompanied by a brown patched tom come running along the path with a letter in his hand it bore the mark of the hotel which we had just left, and was addressed to my human by the landlord. It appeared that within a very few minutes of our leaving, an English lady had arrived and was in the last stage of tuberculosis. She had spent the winter at Davos Platz, and was journeying now to join her friends at Lucerne in the hop that the mountain air could revive her. Alas it was not to be for a sudden hemorrhage had over taken her. It was thought that she could hardly live a few hours, but it would be a great comfort to her if she could see an English doctor, and if only Watson and Holmes would return etc. etc. There was no mention of me or Mistoffelees but it was only to be expected for a human who nothing about Jellicle cats. The note hinted that Watson would be doing the landlord a great favor as the lady, swept up in a wave of patriotism, refused to see a Swiss physician.

The appeal was not one to be ignored. Whilst Holmes and Watson discussed what to do, Misto and I questioned the tom-kit as to whether this note was telling the truth or not. After an immense effort from both parties to understand the question, and the subsequent answer, we managed to gather that the lad himself had not seen the ill woman himself. But he had seen the innkeeper looking very worried and urging the boy to hurry when he had given him the message. I glanced at Mistoffelees when we had heard this description.

"It seems like there is a lady in dire need" he remarked "Watson, the every obliging man he is will surely head back to the hotel. Will you follow him?"

I admit I was tempted to do so. It made me cringe to think that only a few miles away, a woman was dying, far away from her family and from her homeland. But at the same time I was reluctant to leave Misto's side, for fear that it I was not present, trouble would somehow befall him.

"Are you sure Misto? It could be a prank."

"Nonsense, I'll be fine Munk. You go with your human, see what we're being served for supper tonight."

I made the decision to follow my human back to the hotel. Misto would stay at the fall for a little while before making his way over the mountain and we would meet up at Rosenlaui. As I turned away I saw Misto, with Holmes standing nearby. They seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation which I didn't want to interrupt. So turned round and began to follow Watson. That was the last I ever saw them in this world.

It took Watson and me a little over an hour to arrive back at the hotel. The landlord was waiting outside. Aware if his cat allergies I hung back, but stayed close enough to hear their conversation.

"Well" said Watson "I trust that she is no worse?"

A look of surprise passed over his face and at the first quiver of his eyebrows, a sense of despair washed over me.

"You did not write this?" asked Watson, pulling the letter out from his pocket "There is no sick Englishwoman in the hotel?"

"Certainly not!" he cried "Let me see that paper. No it is not my writing sir, but it has the hotel mark on it. Ah! It must have been written by that tall Englishman who came in after you had gone. He said - "

But Watson and I were already gone, running as fast as our limbs would take us, back to the fall of Reichenbach where we had left our friends to their fate. I was faster than my human companion, having four legs to run with, and made it back in about half the time it had taken us to get to the hotel.

There was Misto's black bow-tie, resting against the rock next to Holmes's alpine stock. But there was no sign of them and no response when I called Misto's name. It was the sight of the bow-tie that turned me cold and sick. Misto had not gone to Rosenlaui then, he had remained at this place of horror with Holmes, waiting for his enemy to arrive. The young Swiss tom and his human had gone too. He had probably been in the pay of Macavity, and had left the two cats together. Where had they gone?

I stood still for a few moments trying to collect myself. Then I began to piece together what had happened in the last few minutes of my friend's life. It was, alas, far too easy. First of all there were the paw prints of where my friend and I had stood. Then about twenty meters away there were paw prints of a much larger cat, intertwining with Misto's delicate foot patterns in a deadly dance. A sharp rock lay nearby, spattered with a glistening dark red stain. Whether it was Misto's or Macavity's blood I cannot say. Clumps of long red fur and short black fur lay among the grass. The paw prints continued all the way to the cliff edge, where several skid mark lay and-

Nothing else. There were no returning tracks.

"Misto" is called "MISTOFFELEEEEEEEEEES!"

When I got know reply I sank down onto my stomach. It seemed impossible that someone could be alive one minute, and not the next. I just couldn't comprehend it.

A few minutes later Watson came puffing up to the scene. I watched dismally as he made a similar discovery to my own. With a groan he sank to his knees beside me.

"We've lost them Straps. We were too late. We were too late Holmes and Mistoffelees."

Then he found something that I'd failed to notice. Pages from Holmes's note-book, weighed down by his silver cigarette-case. Picking them up he began to read them, whilst tears unconsciously trailed down his face. After a few sniffs I found that Mistoffelees had left me a message as well. If his had been written, it would have gone like this.

_My dear Munkustrap_

_I write these few lines through the courtesy of Macavity, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. He has been giving me a sketch of the methods by which he avoided the English police and kept himself informed of our movements. I am telling you, his techniques are fascinating. I only wish that I had time to try them out for myself. I am afraid that by ridding Macavity of society I will be causing a lot of pain to my friends, especially to you Munkustrap. But trust me; this is the better long term outcome._

_I was convinced from the beginning that the letter from the landlord was a hoax. And I allowed you to depart on that errand in the belief that something like this would happen. Tell inspector Alonzo that the evidence he needs to convict the gang are in the can of tuna tied up with a blue ribbon and have a M inscribed on the lid. Holmes has made similar arrangements for the conviction of Moriarty. Please give my greetings to my brother Bustopher Jones and Demeter and believe me to be, my dear friend._

_Very sincerely yours_

_Mistoffelees_

A few words may suffice to tell the little that remains. An examination by expert trackers leaves little doubt that a duel, composed of magic as well as fists led the two toms to fall over the edge of the cliff and into the fall's icy depths. Any attempt at recovering the bodies was adsolutely hopeless, and there, deep down in that dreadful cauldron of swirling water and seething foam, will lie for all time the most dangerous criminal and the most brilliant detective the Jellicles have ever seen. The swiss youth and his cat were never found again, and there can be no doubt that he was one of the numerous agent whom Macavity kept in his business. As to the gang , it will be within the memory of most cats of how completely the evidence which Holmes had accumulated exposed their organization. Of their terrible leader, few details came out during the proceedings. Its seems that Macavity shall always be the mystery cat. And now I have come clean. I have made a clear statement of this villainous fiend's career. Because a few incredulous one who have attempted to clear his tarnished memory by attacking the one whom I shall always regard as the best, the cleverest, and the wisest tom that I have ever known.

**I'm thinking about moving this story to the crossover section when I'm done. I tell you my decision in the next chapter**.


	5. Chapter 5

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCMENT: On the twenty third I'll be moving this to the crossover section. Just look for Sherlock Holmes/Cats. Or if you prefer, you could look for it on my profile. **

*later that night*

In the darkest hours of the night, when all the search people had gone, a tall thin man made his way up the face of a cliff. He was exhausted and the rock face was slippery with water, hindering his journey. But he carried on, knowing that solid ground was only a few meters away. Climbing behind him was what looked like a small black shadow, almost impossible to see against the dark cliff face. The two strange companions strenuously climbed until, with a last great effort, they hauled themselves over the edge and lay for an instant in the cold hard rock. Any other fellow might have lain there for hours recuperating, but not these two. As swift as hawks they stood up and hurried away, being careful to stay on the rock so as to leave no tracks. They walked for several hours till they came to rest by a valley stream. It was here, tending to their wounds that they began to talk.

"It did not look like we were followed" said the human, Sherlock Holmes if you have not already guessed.

"We were not" his small companion replied with certainty. He was busy licking a deep gash on his leg.

If any living soul could have seen them now they would have been astounded. A Jellicle and a human talking together, it has never been done before! Munkustrap would have called it an excellent feat. Mistoffelees says it's only an elementary one.

"Why did you stay with me that whole time?" asked Holmes. "Why did you not escape for yourself? Why didn't you teleport away?" Misto gave a quiet scoff.

"I was not about to leave you to face those dastardly falls alone" said he. "I would have stayed with you even if my magic was strong enough, which it was not. I used it up fighting Macavity." Holmes chuckled.

"I knew there was a reason" said he. Shrugging off his jacket he began to examine his left shoulder, which Moriarty had slashed at. "At least he was right handed. He would have been too skilful to beat otherwise."

"I thought you did rather well out there. Considering that fiend had an air rifle" remarked the cat.

"I am flattered Misto, completely flattered" said Holmes.

"I think perhaps next time" said Misto, as he turned his attention from his leg to his paws "I'll try to conserve my magic usage next time. I will not be able to do much for several days now."

The pair was silent for a while as they treated their respective injuries.

"You will not be able to return to England now, not while there are at least three other people who would with you dead."

"Nor will you be able to return to the junkyard, not until Macavity's agent have stopped sniffing around for you."

"Where shall we go then Holmes? Macavity's agents are sure to look for us in Europe."

Holmes thought for a moment

"America is too risky" he said "at lest for the time being."

""Australia might be good" put in Misto "But only if no one notices us going on board which would be difficult."

"Africa would be no good. Everyone Englishman knows every other Englishman there."

"I suppose that leaves us with Asia" said Misto. Holmes smiled.

"I've always had a fondness for the mountains of Tibet" he remarked. "And it has the added benefit of being largely devoid of Englishman."

"And I shall be able to polish up my knowledge of Siamese" grinned Misto.

"If I inform Mycroft of our decision he may be able to book us an anonymous passage there."

"But what about Munkustrap? Telling him and Watson of our existence would be extremely risky." Holmes agreed.

"Not only would it be extremely dangerous to us" he reasoned "But such knowledge would ultimately kill Watson and Munk if Moriarty's agents found out."

"So they shall know nothing?" asked Misto.

"They shall know nothing."

* * *

><p>A week later they embarked on a steamship bound for India. Once there they could cross the Himalayas and secrete quietly in Tibet till it was safe to return Home. Mistoffelees was fairly quite during the time on the ocean. Just before they had walked on board he had received a message from Bustopher who was being his eyes and ears in England.<p>

_The junkyard is mourning your death. Macavity's gang has been contained. Munk is missing you._

_Bustopher._

Again and again Misto found himself reflecting on the words 'Munk is missing you'. Being unaccustomed to emotions, he was unprepared for the feeling of sadness that came with those words. Munkustrap was truly a gem among friends, being blessed with good humour, intelligent conversation... and the patience of a saint (more or less required if you were going to live with Holmes and Misto). And so the black-and-white cat, to his vast surprise, found himself missing the tabby as well.

One afternoon after mousing on the deck Misto returned to his and Holmes's cabin, he found Holmes lying on his bunk staring vacantly at the ceiling. He had been doing that a great deal since they'd started this voyage. Misto jumped onto the bunk and curled up next to his human's stomach. Holmes automatically started scratching the fur behind his ear but Misto could not bring himself to purr. After a few minutes Holmes spoke.

"You know Misto, when I told Watson that I feel lost without my Boswell, I did not realise how true I was."

"If it is any consolation, I am missing my Storyteller as well."

* * *

><p><em>Epilogue<em>

_The silver tabby looked out across the deserted Junkyard. Well, he thought it was deserted. The heavy London fog made it hard to tell. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of movement. Crouching on all four he stared into the mist, and waited._

_There was definitely someone out there, but there step was so light that Munk could barely hear them. Gradually that shape of a cat formed. Munk peered at it, scrutinising. The cat was small, that much he could tell, mostly black, but with a white face. And wait... was his coat sparkling?_

"_It can't be" he whispered "It just can't" his jaw dropped when he saw the magician step out the fog, his smile spread wide and his whiskers slightly dishevelled._

"_Misto?"_

"_Good day Munkustrap, do you fancy a little excursion? I've just recieved a brand new case of immense intrest and I was hoping you would like to accompany me." _

Fins

**I've finished! And just in time, enteries close today. I threw in the Epilogue there, just to show you that Munk and Misto do meet again, as do Holmes and Watson, after a long three years. And if you'd like to read SH for yourself now then please do. Don't forget "The final problem which has Moriarty in it. T.S Elliott based Macavity on him would you believe.**

**R & R if you feel so disposed. **


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